


Vanderweek 2018 - An Agent Where Once Peace Lived

by Lokiiwood



Series: Mystic Messenger Lost Days [3]
Category: Mystic Messenger (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Car Sex, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Gen, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Phone Sex, Smut, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-01
Updated: 2018-07-07
Packaged: 2019-05-31 17:23:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,187
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15124292
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lokiiwood/pseuds/Lokiiwood
Summary: It's Vanderweek 2018! July 1st - July 7th, organized by vanderweek.tumblr.com. Smut, angst, fluff, poetry!Day 0: [Poem]Day 1: [Fluff] Vanderwood x ReaderDay 2: [Smut] Vanderwood x JaeheeDay 3: [Poem]/[Angst]Day 4: [Poetic Drabble] Vanderwood/SevenDay 5: [Fluff] Vanderwood/ReaderDay 6: [Angst] Vanderwood/SevenDay 7: [Smut] Vanderwood x Reader





	1. Day 0: An Agent Where Once Peace Lived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A poem from Vanderwood's perspective to kick off Vanderweek on an unofficial Day 0.

Crime and punishment, justice and salvation.

I got a love and hate both up for debate, shooting down the barrel of my gun.

 

So I don’t hold onto anything I can’t sell,

No sweaty palms just calm decisions,

Go find comfort in pain and crystal visions,

No weights to delay the inevitable,

Don’t get vulnerable, can’t get comfortable.

 

Our rainbows reflected in mirrors fade once

they shatter in different pieces,

scattering and stabbing into the creases,

Blue versus violet, violent bruises,

pink versus red where once peace lived.

 

I remember a man of iron blazing through the sky,

I remember thinking bigger, “If only I could fly.”

I wondered if I’d ever be more than a spy,

I remember dreams, too, before they caused my friends to die.


	2. Day 1: The Safari Cake

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderweek Day 1: ~~Line of Duty~~ || **Guardian**
> 
> Vanderwood's stressful day at work takes a pleasant turn when he gets a kind visitor.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Ray/Jaehee/Seven Route References

The woman was finally gone. Vanderwood nearly collapsed back into his chair, his gloved fingers rubbing his temple as he tried to coax himself into a more positive headspace. On bad days like this he wondered if civilians were just as bad as agents, gangsters, and corrupt politicians. They were certainly just as infuriating and unreasonable.

 

He outwardly groaned when he heard the knock on the main door, not even five seconds later. He peered out from inside his office, the door still wide open as the woman had left it. In this moment of weakness he wondered why he stopped bringing cigarettes and alcohol to work anymore. The woman had ran in before—not even just through the entrance, but into his office space—why even bother knocking now? “Come in,” he called, praying that the woman didn’t or would at least get offended by his tone of voice. What could she have _possibly_ forgotten? She had spoken nonsense for three hours, begging him as a solo private investigator to find out where her ‘real’ husband was and how to get rid of the alien in her home.

 

He recommended a psych ward. She recommended starting with understanding the ‘facts.’

 

The door opened and he stiffened, all hope gone. But it wasn’t the woman.

 

His heart flipped and he instantly regretted sounding so apathetic as you walked through the door and smiled at him, holding up a small bag with polka dot print. It was cute, like you. Your own polka dot dress swayed as you turned to close the door behind you. As it clicked he tore his face away, feeling his eyes beginning to linger on the way the dress framed you.

 

“M-MC,” he stammered out, a little more happily than he intended. God, shit, he didn’t mean to do that. He didn’t want to make it weird. It had been a long day, and it still wasn’t over. He sat up in his chair and brushed some of the hair out of his face with quick flips of his hand.

 

“Stark!” You giggled. Vanderwood bit his lip to suppress his smile, he always appreciated that you occasionally called him by the name he liked for himself. He had learned not to mind ‘Vanderwood,’ but you were the only one who took the second name serious enough to use it. You floated your way towards the desk, eyes glancing around the small office. He had redecorated (again), but now that you were here he began feeling self-conscious about the changes. Was it really too much to have a safari theme? It felt so lame now, you probably hated it—it was gaudy, right?

 

“I like what you did with the place. You really have any eye for interior design,” you sighed, content, as you gently placed the bag in front of him on the desk. He paid it no mind, too focused on your wandering gaze. He had gotten a couple compliments since he opened up the business, but nothing like this—nothing that made his heart beat faster and cheeks heat up like now.

 

He didn’t understand himself. He could privately admit he had a small crush, but he didn’t really know what that meant. Was it always going to be like this? Was he always going to have no control over his own body temperature? He would have to search online for a solution because as things were now was torture.

 

“Stark?” You asked. He blinked and tore his eyes away. Shit, he forgot to answer.

 

“Oh, yes, thank you. I redecorated,” he hummed. Well, _obviously._  God, was he an idiot?

 

“Maybe you should get into design if you like it so much,” you nodded. “I think you’d be good at it. Very good, even!” You made your way around the desk and he clenched his fists. If he had his way you’d get closer so he could smell that delicious scent you always have lingering around you, but oh how he also wished you’d retreat to the other side of the room so he could stop sweating inside his gloves.

 

He cleared his throat, partly to distract himself but mostly to get on with it. “What’s wrong?”

 

You frowned. Did he do something wrong? He opened his mouth to apologize, but promptly closed it again, unsure what exactly it’d be for.

 

“Nothing’s wrong, Vanderwood. I just came to see you…” You trailed off,  moving to open the bag. “There was just extra cake at the bakery and I came to give you one. You like coffee flavored, right?”

 

You pulled the bag down and he leaned in. It was absolutely beautiful. He’d been impressed with you and Jaehee’s works before, but something about this one seemed so perfect. It was circular, a beige-colored cake sitting in a small, plastic container with three lions intricately drawn in dark brown icing. The sides of the cake were clean, diagonal lines also in dark brown and the very bottom of the sides were tightly pressed together triangles that gave the appearance of grass.

 

“Do you like it?” You asked.

 

“Of course, this is…” He stopped himself from saying something cheesy, something like ‘A dream come true, almost as cute as you.’ He opted for a different kind of honesty that wouldn’t be off putting. “It’s beautiful, and thoughtful. Thank you.”

 

You sighed and clapped your hands together, your smile contagious enough that he couldn’t prevent his lips from mimicking it. “Ah! I’m so glad you like it. Those lions took me forever because I don’t do animals often. But I’m glad it turned out OK, it matches even better than I hoped with the new office design.”

 

“Wait, it wasn’t already like this?”

 

You nodded, turning the cake in a circle with one hand to show off all the different angles. “Yeah, the cake was plain, we hadn’t decorated it when we found out we accidentally made an extra. I just decided to make it look a little nicer for you.”

 

What did he do to deserve you?

 

“Wow, that’s...Thank you,” he sighed. In a spur of the moment, he reached for his phone in his pocket and pulled it out.

 

“Oh! Do you want a picture with it? It’ll look like it’s your birthday.” You giggled and began reaching for the phone but he shook his head, standing up.

 

“Actually I wanted you with the cake.”

 

Your eyes widened, then eyebrows furrowed. You were confused.

 

“Um, if that’s OK?” _Shit, shit._ He quickly tried to come up with an excuse, realizing that it was indeed an odd request. “I just thought since you made it and you don’t make animals often, it might be a good reference. And I don’t like pictures of myself. And I don’t have pictures of you?” No, that was still weird. But he already said it out loud, he couldn’t take it back now. “For memories’ sake, I mean.”

 

You smiled and he finally exhaled. “Let’s just take it together then! We can take a selfie.”

 

“Oh, uh, I’ve never…”

 

“It’s OK, I’ll do it!”

 

He reluctantly handed you his phone and obediently sat back down like you instructed. You pulled the cake closer to the edge and bent down so you were both the same height. Vanderwood took note that he could “swipe” the camera and have it flip to the “selfie” side. Good to know.

 

You counted to ‘cake’ and he gave his best, small smile, focusing intently on the lens and not your arm brushing up against him. Maybe it wouldn’t show as such—but the smile was genuine. You returned the phone and stood back up, leaning against the desk and relaxing. You were comfortable now, and it made him feel warm inside.

 

“I also really wanted to thank you for taking care of Saeyoung.”

 

“Huh?”

 

“Yeah, even now after everything is over and he’s living with Saeran...You still check up on him, you’re like his guardian. Everyone thinks of you that way, you know.”

 

“I see,” he mused. “Force of habit.”

 

“Oh, you just love him,” you teased. He rolled his eyes and you simply giggled. Maybe he’d have to do that more often.

 

“So what about you? You’re settled in, do you have your own special someone starting to take care of you yet?” You winked at him and he averted his eyes lest his cheeks redden to betray him.

 

“Um, well, I guess that’d be you?”

 

His eyes returned when he saw you shift. You blinked at him and scratched at your ear, a shy smile creeping out. You shook your head and strummed your fingers along your arm, a laugh he recognized as abnormal fumbling out. He did something wrong again. Damn.

 

“Um, haha, that’s not what I meant, um…” He waited for you to explain, mentally turning over the question in his head again. You did check up on him often, more and more as time went on, of course it was you. Did you not notice this whole time and you were embarrassed? Did you not like the idea of it?

 

“I’m sorry, I guess I misunderstood,” he mumbled. Vanderwood willed himself to disappear, wishing you both were just communicating over the phone like usual. He didn’t like situations like this—ones where he couldn’t just walk away, where he had to consciously control his facial features because everyone could see them, where he didn’t have a plan of attack because it wasn’t a mission and it was just life, where failure came from his personal faults and your downcast face.

 

But you didn’t explain yourself, pushing off the desk with ease and walking to inspect the nearby painting of an elephant and her child. Vanderwood counted in his head to calm down, silently taking note of where on the image your eyes seemed to inspect more than others.

 

“You know,” you said with an emphasis, “You should take off next week’s Thursday.” You turned to him and added a quick, “Please.”

 

He shuffled through the dates with his mind. Thursday next week was Parents’ Day.

 

It clicked quickly. Of course. Saeyoung was probably planning something, that’s why you mentioned him being his ‘guardian.’ Well that was stupid, Vanderwood wasn’t anybody’s legal guardian nor was he a biological parent. Maybe it was coincidence, although he’d be lying if he said he believed in them. Regardless, it didn’t matter what the case was, because you had asked with those eyes of yours and you had said ‘please.’ He had little choice in his answer.

 

“Yes, alright.”

 

You exhaled and scratched at your ear again, beaming at him with just enough sunshine to burn him into his seat. “I’m sorry if you got the wrong impression about why I stopped by. I really did want to come see you, you’ve been so busy lately and sometimes I worry. You should take breaks, you are the boss after all.”

 

You were right, he nodded instead of admitting that he didn’t know what else to do. But more importantly, he knew he had to come up with an excuse to get you to stay. He glanced at the cake and stood up from the chair. “Would you like to join me? I should take a break now. We could eat a slice together, if you have time at all.”

 

You giggled behind your hand and returned to his side, leaning against the desk again.

 

“I have all day, actually.”

 

He felt goosebumps on his skin and told himself to respond—something, something, _anything._ “Ah, well, you’re welcome to stay as long as you want.”

 

Perfect.

 

He stiffened as your hand raised, and he held his breath when you reached to brush a strand of hair out of his face.

 

“Then maybe I’ll stay all day after all,” you grinned.

 

“Well,” he inhaled, trying to be nonchalant when he wanted nothing more than to escape out of the window, “Then I’d better order us dinner.”


	3. Day 2: Sex and Tinted Windows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderweek Day 2: ~~Housework~~ || **Vacation**
> 
> It was supposed to be a peaceful vacation at the beach, but two people aren't necessarily having the best time. Things take a better turn when they find their own fun together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Seven Route References, Smut  
> Relationship: Jaehee/Vanderwood

“You tan pretty well.”

 

That was the first thing Zen had said to him. Vanderwood decided he didn’t like Zen. Everyone was on thin ice already, an annoying cacophony of conflicting personalities that made a whole family he didn’t belong to, and now that he’d been confined to a long car ride with a few of them?  _Absolute_ disinterest.

 

But whatever, they were finally at the beach which meant he could enjoy himself without being anywhere near them.

 

“Mary, we need your insane upper body strength on my team!” Seven whined, holding up the beach volleyball and shaking it as if that would entice him to change his mind. He was wearing the dumbest swim trunks Vanderwood had ever seen—Long Cat print—and glanced over to see his twin wearing the same. Poor guy. “No thanks,” he quipped, fixing his sunglasses that somehow got stuck in his hair.

 

“Here, Mr. Vanderwood.”

 

He turned to see Kang holding out a scrunchie for him, looking a little more relaxed than he was used to but formal all the same. Even while wearing a sundress she projected an aura of seriousness and calm. He briefly wondered if she was always like this or if she was just doomed to being uncomfortable since her friend group included her boss. In that sense, he related a bit.

 

The RFA weren’t his friends, they were Seven’s, he just had nowhere else to go now.

 

“Thank you,” he sighed, accepting the gift. Vanderwood put his small drawstring bag on his back and began tying up his hair in a loose bun, eyeing the woman who still remained at his side, staring out at the sea. Out of them all, her and Yoosung seemed the least likely to be here with the rest of the weirdos in the RFA. Yet, here they were for better or worse. It wasn’t his problem.

 

“Jaehee!”

  
She wasn’t going to dodge it in time, Vanderwood knew because neither was he. His hand was in front of her face, the still hot volleyball in his grasp. It was purely instinct, a reflex to prevent self-harm.

 

“Saeyoung you idiot!” Saeran groaned, smacking his brother on his bare back.

 

“I’m so sorry, Assistant Kang!” Seven called out.

 

Vanderwood was too annoyed to throw the ball back and pressed it into the stunned woman’s arms. “I wouldn’t let them have that back if I were you,” he muttered.

 

Kang seemed to finally get over the initial shock and faltered a step. “T-thank you?”

 

“Mhmm.”

 

And with that, Vanderwood left. He had books to read far, far away.

 

✉ ⇢ ☾ √ ☽ ⇠ ✉

 

It was dark and he was on the second piece of literature when the first raindrop stirred him out of the strange world of the modern shoe, chapter 30 of his book of facts about ‘necessary’ industries. Shit, where did the time go?

 

He groaned. He had gone pretty damn far along the shoreline to guarantee he wouldn’t run into any of the RFA, but he hadn’t anticipated he wouldn’t be back by nightfall.

 

He stood up and brushed sand off of himself before returning the books to his bag. This was going to be rough, and there was no guarantee the slight drizzle wasn’t going to become a full blown shower soon. He would have to jog.

 

He stretched and took off at a brisk pace, thankful even more for the hair tie preventing his curls from slapping against his eyes. He flinched and feet skid in the sand when a twin pair of bright lights exploded onto the horizon. Who was driving this late?

 

Vanderwood shrugged the bag off his shoulder and reached down, hand grazing the gun stored inside. Just in case. He didn’t relax even when the vehicle began to slow down as it neared him.

 

Oh, it was the rich kid’s car. He approached slow, grip loosening but ever present on his weapon. Why did Jumin send out his driver for him? He wasn’t official RFA nor was he sure Jumin remembered he was on this trip at all. If he did, he’d know how little Vanderwood wanted to do with them.

 

The window rolled down and he tensed, but sighed when he saw the woman’s classic face of neutrality. She was damp, wet hair sticking to her forehead and glasses and wearing an ugly gray sweatsuit.

 

“Kang? Why…”

 

She gave him perhaps the fourth fakest smile he’d ever seen. “The driver couldn’t be reached. I was instructed to bring you back. Please, the door is open.”

 

A puppet on a string, that’s what she reminded him of. This was ridiculous, was she even legally allowed to drive this thing? Well, legal or not he was getting a free ride. He finally let go of the gun completely and walked around the vehicle, hopping in on the passenger’s side as instructed. He relaxed into the overly soft cushions and gave her a nod of appreciation before she began turning the car around through the sand.

 

And turning.

  
And turning.

 

“I’ll find some wood and help push,” he finally sighed. The woman had a look of irritation on her face, but gave a stiff nod to acknowledge him. It was raining harder now. Ugh, he would have to run to the pier most likely. It wasn’t too far, but he was going to be soaked. Vanderwood exited the vehicle and took off towards the overhang, glancing back to see Jaehee still attempting to move the car by alternating between drive and reverse. She should just wait, it was a waste of time. Once he secured the planks he had spotted earlier, they could easily leave.

 

Except they weren’t there.

 

He stood under the shelter of the high-raised wood, shuffling over the sand as he searched with increasing doubt for the whereabouts of the wood planks that had so securely been stuck deep into the brown grains. His eyes trailed up to the small waves that licked towards him and he groaned. The tide had gotten higher, the planks were probably long gone.

 

Annoyed, he gave one last look around before giving up and running back to the car. Although the windows were tinted, Vanderwood could still make out her hunched-over form in the driver’s seat. Did she hit her head or something? He threw open the door and she sat up with a start, glancing at him before turning away to her window and wiping at her face. Crying? It wasn’t any of his business, she clearly didn’t want him to see it. He moved on to the next order of business as he climbed in and shut the door. The rain could be heard now, the inside of the car amplifying the heavier thumps of liquid breaking against the roof.

 

“The planks are gone,” he said. “We’re stuck here, so you should call your boss.” Vanderwood raised his arms to slip off the hair tie, needing to readjust it after a long, windy day.

 

“Do you have your phone?”

 

He worked at his ponytail and looked over at her. She was staring directly at him, face clear but eyes still puffy. “No. Why?”

 

Her eyes fluttered close for a brief sigh to escape and she sat back in the seat. “My phone is off. Jum...Mr. Han woke me up for this.”

 

“But you’re on vacation, I thought he couldn’t ask you to do anything?”

 

She shot a small smile at the steering wheel, hands folding over her lap. He rolled his eyes and considered the situation. They were stuck here with no contact to the rest of the RFA. Their choices were to wait out the rain or to return on foot now.

 

“I’m not walking,” Vanderwood shrugged. But that wasn’t true, if Kang decided to walk he would reluctantly accompany her.

 

“I don’t think the rain will stop for awhile,” she frowned. Was she really willing to risk catching pneumonia?

 

“So you’ll stay then?” _Please say yes._

 

“I suppose. I am just not looking forward to Mr. Han’s lecture.”

 

Vanderwood scoffed. “Lecture? About what? Being stuck in the sand with a car you were made to drive?”

 

She closed her eyes and mumbled. “Yes, I should have planned ahead.”

 

With a roll of his eyes he finished tightening his ponytail. “If you keep letting him step on you, you’ll never be anything more than the doormat you currently are.”

 

Her body tensed, but he didn’t care. The woman had to defend herself if she ever hoped for a defense at all.

 

“I am just doing my job, I signed a contract.” Her eyes opened slowly to stare ahead.

 

“A contract is just a piece of paper. Sign a new one then that doesn’t entail you chauffeuring during your vacation and then getting lectured about it.”

 

“Please stop.” She glared at the steering wheel now, still tense enough for Vanderwood to understand she was upset.

 

He studied her expression for a few moments longer, trying to figure out what about her words made him so irritated. Not that the rest of the RFA wasn’t a bumbling mess, but Kang usually stayed to the point and thus, was much easier to understand between the rapidfire ramblings of the likes of Seven and Zen.

 

Vanderwood sat up and stripped himself of his shirt and shoes. He wouldn’t take off his swim trunks out of politeness but he wanted the least amount of dampness clinging onto him as possible.

 

“I appreciate your honesty.”

 

He carefully placed the wet items in the seat behind him—considering a gun was inside—and readjusted to get comfortable before inspecting Kang again. “Are people not usually honest with you?”

 

She chuckled, something dry, something dejected. He hated the sound, it grated his ears. There was no reason for someone in her position to look so...sad. His emotions were conflicted, he wasn’t sure whether to be annoyed or pity her, and settled on feeling both.

 

It quickly changed to pity when she curled up into herself, shoulders heaving. Ah, shit. He didn’t know how to handle these kinds of situations. Was he supposed to leave? But there was nowhere to go. “Um, Kang? Ms. Kang? Assist-”

 

Her head shot up and titled towards him, fury apparent in her gaze before she even opened her mouth. “Please don’t call me that! Don’t call me  _Assistant Kang_ . It’s _not_ funny.”

 

Vanderwood was at a loss, but accepted her request. “Sorry, I didn’t know that was a joke.”

 

She laughed again, a single ‘ha’ sharp enough to stab the windshield. He cringed and silently prayed for the rain to stop. “Are you sure you were an agent? You’re not very observant.”

 

Her expression fell and she shook her head. “Sorry, that was...uncalled for. I apologize.” Kang sighed and buried her head in her hands. Vanderwood didn’t know what to think of the situation and remained silent, internally accepting the apology and angling his body away from her. Her remark had its merit. He had observed the RFA long enough when their relationship to Agent 707 had first been on his radar, but that was years ago. Now, he paid them little attention, remarkably so. Vanderwood didn’t feel the need to, but he was beginning to reconsider. If he was to be around these people often he should at least know what makes them tick.

  
He should make an effort.

 

“So...you can call me Vanderwood,” he said, returning to face her. “No need to be so formal. I—what are you _doing_?” He choked on his own words, tearing his eyes away from Kang, who was stripping off her wet top.

 

“I’m cold,” she stated. He peeked over just for a second to see she was stripping off her pants. “And wet.”

 

“And I don’t _care!_ ”

 

He heard the angry sigh of relief and the faint thump of wet clothes being thrown in the backseat. He didn’t dare check to see what her underwear looked like and rubbed his temples. Now he _really_ didn’t know what to do. But he did tell himself he’d start making an effort.

 

“Um, yeah that’s fine. I took off my shirt, so, it’s fair you can take off yours.”

 

“Yes, it is, though I wasn’t asking for your permission.”

 

Vanderwood let out a low whistle. “I sense you’re angry, but I also feel some of it directed towards me?”

 

“You think of me as Mr. Han’s loyal lapdog like everyone else. I apologize if I seem a little hostile.”

 

“I don’t really think of you at all.”

 

She scoffed. “I guess that’s better. I don’t think much of _you_ either.”

 

Well, by her tone of voice it certainly didn’t _sound_ like it was better. Wait, was that sarcasm? Vanderwood wasn’t sure, he decided to play it safe.

 

“Yes, alright. Well, I think I’m going to take a nap.”

 

Or try to. He felt incredibly uncomfortable sleeping with other people near him—force of habit. And this situation was just the icing on the cake.

 

“Vanderwood?” Her voice was quiet.

 

“Yes?”

 

“You can call me Jaehee.”

 

“Then I will do so.”

 

He couldn’t get a read on her. She was angry one moment, and sad the next. This was not the purpose of vacations. Well, not that this was one for her. He tried to think of how Seven dealt with Saeran, exhaling.

 

“Um, do you want to talk about it?”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

Shit, maybe that wasn’t it? He wasn’t sure where he was going with this.

 

“I mean, your feelings. If you talk about it, you might feel better.”

 

He heard her shuffle around for a moment before answering. “It’s a little funny you ask that...no one else in the RFA ever asks me to talk about it. Sometimes Zen, but he…” She sighed.

 

“Is Zen not in-love with you, too?”

 

" _No_!”

 

Her voice nearly cracked in a yell. Vanderwood was no good at this, he never should’ve tried to do anything but shut up. Why did asking a question anger her again? He groaned, but she continued before he could apologize—again.

 

“I am not in-love with Zen! He is just my _friend_! Someone like him could never...never in a million years…”

 

“Never what?”

 

“Like someone like me.”

 

“Like you?”

 

“You’re so strange, Vanderwood.”

 

He sat up in the seat. This was going to be a long night. Maybe she was misunderstanding him because she wasn’t seeing his facial or body expressions to contextualize his tone and thoughts.

 

So he turned to her. She saw his movement out the corner of her eye and turned her head from the steering wheel. Vanderwood almost couldn’t recognize her, her hair stringy and loose in its dampness, her body exposed, a lot more toned than he assumed it would be. She clearly worked out, which Vanderwood found interesting. Her muscles, even in their relaxed state, suggested athletic even. He remembered her doing something with martial arts.

 

“I’m a little strange, I think. But,” he started,“I think you’re squashing your own potential. You’re conventionally attractive, have a stable job, usually not annoying, and seem to care about other people. So, that makes you a high priority as far as choosing mates go.”

 

She cocked her head to the side. “Choosing ‘mates’?”

 

He said the term again in his head. No, that was correct. “What’s wrong with that phrasing?”

 

Her hand quickly raised and she giggled behind it.

 

“What?”

 

Vanderwood was getting anxious, he thought there wouldn’t be anymore misunderstandings now that they were looking at each other but Jaehee was _laughing_ at him.

 

“I just like how you speak, I guess. Sorry, I didn’t mean to laugh. I’m not making fun of you.”

 

He raised an eyebrow. Her body language suggested she was telling the truth, so he accepted the compliment.

 

“You know, I think you really are trying to be nice to me,” she quipped.

 

“Emphasis on trying,” he hummed.

 

She giggled again, and he cracked a small smile. It felt good to be doing _something_ right, even if he wasn’t exactly sure what.

 

“Will you be looking for a ‘mate’ one of these days, too?”

 

He shook his head.

 

“Why not? If you think I’m conventionally attractive, then surely you must realize you’re...well, gorgeous?”

 

He shrugged. “I’m just not interested, especially if that’s one of the reasons someone wants to have a relationship with me.”

 

“Aren’t you lonely?”

 

“No.”

 

Of course he wasn’t. How could he be when he had Seven and was being shuffled around to the rest of the RFA? Plus, he had a nearly endless supply of books nowadays. He couldn’t be lonely if he tried.

 

“I’m envious of you,” she murmured.

 

He scoffed at that. There was nothing to be envious of as far as he was concerned. His life was a tragic soap opera that barely scraped by a bad ending. But now, he was getting curious.

 

“Jaehee, you’re lonely? Why don’t you just go on dates?”

 

Her cheeks reddened and she tapped at the steering wheel. “It’s been a long time, I don’t feel prepared for something like...that. Dates and expectations are…” She trailed off and Vanderwood almost didn’t notice, fascinated by the tinge in her cheeks that seemed to suit her well. She was...cute.

 

“Expectations?”

 

Her face got even darker, which only furthered his confusion. “E-expectations. You know, being with someone. A lot of young people expect things nowadays it seems.”

 

“I can’t say I understand, sorry.”

 

She sighed and moved her arms to trace through her hair, no longer covering up her bra. Vanderwood politely avoided staring, but it was a little hard with the enormous size of her chest.

 

“You seem to be very blunt, Vanderwood. So I will try to be blunt with you. When I say expectations...I-I’m referring to romantic and sexual encounters. Young people just have them whenever, wherever it seems, it’s a problem.”

 

“A problem?”

 

Jaehee blinked at him, eyebrows furrowing. “You don’t think it’s a problem that people just...have sex?”

 

“Is there a reason they shouldn’t?”

 

She was losing him again. Did she…?

 

“Ah,” Vanderwood said. “It has a special meaning to you.”

 

She patted her cheeks and shook her head. “You’re too much! I’m not saying it has a special meaning to me, I’m not _innocent_ , I just mean… well…” She was stammering now, struggling to put her thoughts together.

 

“If you’re not new to it and it has no special meaning to you, then what’s the problem?”

 

“I-it’s been too long! I can’t do it.”

 

“Sure you can. It’s natural,” Vanderwood said.

 

“Well maybe for _you_ , you probably...ah,” she stopped and looked away.

 

“I probably what?” Vanderwood asked. He found himself drawn to her, increasingly interested in her strange point of view and cute flusterings.

 

She returned her gaze, worrying her lip. “You probably have sex with whoever you want. You’re handsome and well-built like Zen so…”

 

“Well, that’s a flawed argument,” he chuckled, wondering how she came up with something so silly. “Those are just your opinions, and even with those criteria you wouldn’t have sex with me.”

 

She paused and her arms fell back in front of her chest. “W-well I guess it’s mutual.”

 

Vanderwood thought about it, regarding Jaehee’s downcast face and frame that she was actively trying to make smaller. “Hm, I guess not. My criteria is attractiveness and tolerance. I tolerate you, so I guess I would.”

 

Jaehee choked, her hands flying to cover her mouth as she looked upon him with shock. “D-don’t joke like that! Your sense of humor is…!”

 

“I wasn’t joking.”

 

Vanderwood glanced down at himself, wondering if his body language was off. It was a little uncomfortable in the seat, but he could manage. He looked at Jaehee’s instead. Based on her reactions and body language, maybe he had miscalculated. Maybe…

 

“Are you attracted to me?”

 

“ _Vanderwood_.”

 

“Yes, Jaehee?”

 

She groaned and closed her eyes. She was contemplating something, a little uncomfortable, so Vanderwood remained silent, defaulting to just observing and waiting.

 

After a few minutes, he stopped staring and leaned back into the chair, adjusting the seat to give himself more legroom.

 

He heard Jaehee moving again and turned his head, only to tense when he saw her nearly looming over him, peering down, hand reaching towards him before retreating to her side. They stared at each other for a few heartbeats, before Jaehee finally broke away her gaze and moved to return to her seat. But Vanderwood stopped her, a gentle hand on the arm that had been so close but hesitated touching him only a moment ago.

 

She went for it, bending all the way down until her nose was touching his. He closed the space, the hand on her arm pulling her down all the way until their lips gently met. Vanderwood’s hand loosened from the arm and reached behind her still-damp head, thumb running over her curls and just barely deepening the kiss. Jaehee relaxed into him, and he felt her hand rest on his chest as she continued to lean in.

 

Well if he had any doubts about how attractive he found Jaehee, they slipped out along with reason. He never meant for this to happen, but the blushing, wet mess before him was a temptation he was willing to indulge in. It was just a kiss, right? But he wanted more than a feathery press. He didn’t know how she’d react, but since she initiated he took a chance. His other hand reached for her other arm, gently tugging on her until she was forced to leave her seat to follow him.

 

Everything about Jaehee was soft, from the light presses of her hands to steady herself on his bare chest to her puffy lips that tasted faintly of lemon. Part of him was beginning to fear he’d break her, and he mentally fought with himself over it. They could still stop now and maybe it wouldn’t be too awkward, but that would mean he’d have to peel away, that he’d have to willingly remove himself from the sweet lemonade pouring into him.

 

He didn’t want to.

 

He felt her hands begin to feel around his chest, tracing the lines of his abs so carefully he wasn’t sure if she was exploring or teasing him. Either way, it was making him heat up and his eyes closed. This was dangerous. Jaehee sighed into him and his lips tingled. _Shit_. It was just a kiss— _just a kiss_. It was just a kiss when both of his hands wrapped themselves in her hair and tugged her more forcibly into him, it was just a kiss when her hands escaped his chest to wrap tightly around his neck, and it was just a kiss when he found her straddled across his lap.

 

But it stopped being a kiss when she tugged at his ponytail and elicited a small moan. Vanderwood acted on instinct, his hands fell from the back of her head to trailing down her back, his fingernails bumping down her nice curves. Jaehee hesitated her small kisses and Vanderwood’s eyes fluttered open to confirm her consent. She avoided the eye contact and tilted her head to instead nip at his neck, arching her back into his hands. Her soft skin was enough for him to envision going further, but he controlled himself, finger teasing into the very beginning of her pantyline before retreating back up to also tease at her bra.

 

Even with the fabric, her breasts felt warm, and his fingers traced faster up and down her back to distract himself from the large mounds he wanted to release from their overpriced prison. Her careful nips became a little more teasing as Jaehee’s tip of tongue left a burn everywhere her lips moved down his neck. He didn’t remember enjoying something like this before, but now that it was happening he could understand why whenever he bit necks that it always quickly escalated.

 

It was just supposed to be a kiss but...He shifted under her, realizing an obvious tent had formed in his swim trunks. Jaehee left his neck and pressed those lemon lips of hers against his again. It had an intoxicating effect, he forgot all about the boner and was lost in the way she was pressing against him. Something about it was erotic—was it because they were in a vehicle, semi-public? One would have to be right by the car to see that he was beginning to grind up against her, and that the woman was grinding back. They would have to nearly press their faces to the glass to know Vanderwood threw his head back into the seat and was gripping Jaehee roughly as they began moving in sync.

 

Jaehee’s nails scraped against his shoulders and she pressed her face in to start a new kiss, but stopped when Vanderwood’s hands ghosted over her bottom. He paused, face flushed, and regarded her with intensity. Was this OK? Did she want to stop? She bit her lip, eyes boring into his, and pushed against his hands. With the approval, Vanderwood let go of himself. His hands squeezed on her buttocks, and guided her movements on top of his arousal. The friction was good, every forward motion making his cock twitch in anticipation for the next one. He leaned back in and met Jaehee halfway, a sloppy kiss between the two of them earning dual gasps.

 

“Can you take your bra off?” He asked quickly, only a moment lost in the increasingly passionate presses of lips.

 

She nodded against him, not stopping as she rid herself of the top. He moaned into her mouth as the two mounds, now bare, squeezed against his chest again. They were hot to the touch, and Vanderwood slowly parted from her sweet taste to try the new one. He sat up a little straighter to angle his head down and licked around her areola. Jaehee closed her eyes and relaxed, letting Vanderwood trace around her breasts with his tongue before taking her nipple into his mouth. Her small moans didn’t go ignored, Vanderwood alternated popping nipples in his mouth and letting her soft whispers of pleasure wash over him. But he wanted more, so much more.

 

As he continued, one arm left her back to fumble in the space next to him. He found it, a latch, and pulled back. Jaehee gasped when Vanderwood nearly fell back, tightening her arms on his shoulders as he scooted them further into the car along the seat backing that now lay flat. He stopped tasting her long enough to flip her on her back and loom over her, hands caging her body while he crawled between her legs. He leaned down to kiss over her breasts again and let his hands wander to her panties, the side of his pointer fingers brushing back and forth over the most sensitive part of her crotch through the fabric.

 

She moved against the motion and he let his fingers slip inside the panties, to which Jaehee gasped and arched her back. She squeezed her legs against him, but he continued, pressing a little harder to give her the friction she was seeking. His eyes flicked up to see her, and his throat clenched when he saw her blushing face, eyes tight and biting her lip. He decided rather suddenly he had to know what other faces she could make.

 

He released his mouth from her nipples with a pop and pulled away to shrug down her underwear. She helped kick them off her leg and Vanderwood used to opportunity to push and keep her legs apart. The smell of her, wet and feminine, carried his face down slowly before crashing into her folds. Her legs shivered and attempted to push in, only to be met with the solid countering of Vanderwood’s biceps.

 

He licked up slowly, feeling the small, sticky grooves of her sex against his rough-by-comparison tongue. He felt her legs continue to, uselessly, push against his sides with every new movement, so he sped it up. An occasional kiss met her thighs as he circled her engorged clitorus, hands trailing over her waist. She tasted good, something that reminded him of beach sand and caramel, an odd combination so distinctly Jaehee.

 

He began teasing a finger in, and felt his own sex tremble when she let out a low whine. “Van…”

 

Fuck, _yes_ . To hear Jaehee’s voice, usually so polite and careful and harmonious break under his care motivated him. He needed more - _more_. One hand left her thigh to reach inside his swim trunks, squeezing the hard-on and thumbing over the leaking that would surely be leaving a print if he weren’t wearing waterproof fabric.

 

The finger already burying itself inside of her folds increased to two, and Jaehee’s whispered whines increased volume. Her body didn’t seem to know how to react - he felt her hands push against the top of his head as if to stop him, but she grinded her pussy against his face at the same time. He could make up her mind.

 

“Vanderwood, ah, Van,” she pleaded. Vanderwood curled his fingers and Jaehee nearly jumped. His cock ached, and he wasn’t sure whether to stop stroking it or use the hand to hold Jaehee down.

 

She grinded harder into his face and he picked up his pace, answering the question. He jerked harder on his member, the moans of Jaehee spurring him on. He flicked his tongue against her clit and gently sucked on it. He felt her convulsing around his fingers and growled in appreciation. “Yes,” he murmured. “Good girl Jaehee, cum for me.”

 

The heels of her feet kicked at his back and crossed over to pull him in—as if he wasn’t already incredibly deep into her folds. But she obeyed, hands on his head squeezing onto locks of his hair as she gasped loud and wet into the air. “Yes, yes, Van…”

 

A soft string of “oohs” found themselves spilling out into the enclosed space. His convulsions slowed down and Vanderwood stopped, blowing on her sensitive clit and slowly removing his fingers from inside of her. She shivered and whined, and Vanderwood looked up to see her blushing glare from his extra, teasing stimulation.

 

He held the gaze, a small smirk twitching the corners of his mouth as he licked over his cum-drenched digits and his other hand left the inside of his swim trunks. Her eyes widened and she quickly looked away.

 

“I’m not sure why you’re so shy now?”

 

She sat up, still not looking his way as she brushed hair out of her face. Vanderwood was still in-between her legs and didn’t move, his face instead pushing into her space until her head returned to kiss his lips. Vanderwood returned it, a quick, but full and tender kiss before moving away. Jaehee didn’t follow him, but regarded him with patient curiosity.

 

“You’re beautiful, you know,” he hummed.

 

Jaehee’s hands slowly pressed against her cheeks and she frowned, but didn’t look away this time.

 

“And smart and kind, so you shouldn’t worry about silly things like ‘being ready’. No one is really ready for anything. If you just be yourself, you’re as ready as you can be.”

 

Her expression softened, but she still didn’t smile at him.

 

“Maybe you’re being sentimental with me,” she suggested.

 

He rolled his eyes. “I’m never sentimental, only honest. You should be honest with yourself, too, then maybe you wouldn’t be stuck out here in the rain.”

 

Her lips curved upwards, eyes darting away for a few seconds before finding their way back.

 

“Well right now I don’t want to be anywhere else, so I guess it worked out for me.”

 

He blinked, a little surprised, but found it a pleasant admission all the same. He smiled back.

 

“Yeah, I guess it worked out for the both of us.”


	4. Day 3: Lava Hotter Than the Sun/Heat-Seeking

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Two for the price of one! Both pieces are related so I put them together._
> 
> Vanderweek Day 3: ~~Trauma~~ || **Shadows**
> 
> "Love Hotter Than the Sun"  
> A poem from Vanderwood's perspective about what happened with his former partner.
> 
> Vanderweek Day 3: **Trauma** || ~~Shadows~~
> 
> Heat-Seeking  
> A one-shot from Agent Nouv's perspective as he handles an irritable, newly 'single' agent.

_“Lava Hotter Than the Sun”_

 

Oozing, melting coals

Not quite rivers yet -

Tar eyeballs visible, still seeing souls

In their circular shape down her back.

He watches the red escape -

A Volcanic Trail,

She screams for something alien -

A Heaven or Hell.

He reaches a decision, reaches for her gun,

The keys have been swallowed,

She can see it - a blazing sun!

She wasn’t an angel, peace when he pulls it,

Affording a tear that breaks with the bullet.

Fall back, fall far, fall so he can face another fray,

She’s silent, she’s sorry, she’s just another shadow he couldn’t save.

 

* * *

 

Heat-Seeking 

 

“Agent Vanderwood?”

 

Agent Nouv asks again, hiding his fear far better than his irritation. The younger agent is ignoring him—if all of him is even there. His fingers, resting gently on the taser in his pocket, begin to strum. He raises his voice and calls for the man’s attention again, eyes darting upwards to the lone clock on the wall.

 

“Agent Vanderwood, we can’t leave here until we work out a timeline. I need your help, you’re the only who knew her and the plan well enough to finish this up. Please.”

 

Vanderwood curls further into himself, hunched shoulders no longer shivering, but the stillness of his being gives off red flags. Nouv’s hand squeezes on the taser in response. How the hell are they supposed to partner for this if he’s afraid Vanderwood might kill him?

 

“Underground.”

 

He flinches when Vanderwood mumbles the words unexpectedly. At least they’re making progress. He exhales, hand finally leaving the taser to begin marking sewers, mines, and hilly dips on the map.

 

“Not the mines.”

 

He erases them, not bothering to ask why.

 

Nouv bites at his lip, focusing on the large paper that spreads across the table. “How’s the air control? Cameras?”

 

“Heat-seeking drones.”

 

That makes things difficult. Drones are hard to take down and have wider ranges, even if they’re easy to spot. Them being heat-seeking meant they couldn’t challenge them head-on. It would be a hacking battle, and reliable hackers are hard to come by.

 

“This is good, Vanderwood. You’re doing good.”

 

He means it, but there was no harm in trying to appeal to the younger agent’s good side.

 

Vanderwood is silent, ignores the compliment. A few scribbles later, Nouv pauses to watch Vanderwood stand up from the chair and turn to face him. There are no traces of tears or remorse like he expected, just unpleasant ice as the younger agent peers over the map from the other side of the table.

 

He points his finger at what appears to be a bathroom and taps at the map, eyebrows furrowing.

 

“What?”

 

“We’ll enter here.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

“There’s a tunnel nearby if we go through the outhouse.”

 

His jaw slacks. Disgusting, no way he’s going through _literal shit_ unless it was the only option.

 

“I’ll make that final decision,” he grumbles, marking it with a grimace.

 

“You asked for my help, so we’re going through the outhouse.”

 

Agent Nouv peers back at the man, studying his serious expression. He heard Vanderwood was good and was becoming senior soon, but that didn’t mean he could treat him like this— _he_ was the superior officer here. That had to be made clear, there was no room for conflict on the field.

 

“Agent Vanderwood, I know you’re still recovering from the loss of your previous partner, but mistakes happen. We have to work t-”

 

“Mistake?”

 

His hand involuntarily reaches for the taser in his pocket as soon as Vanderwood raises his voice. Nouv frowns. This is what he didn’t want.

 

Vanderwood deflates, a smile quirking on his lips as the younger agent glares at him across the table. “The intelligence team on _your_ end fucked up the coordinates and I had to _kill_ my partner so she wouldn’t die an agonizing death after we _walked into a trap_. Does that…”

 

Vanderwood shakes his head, the hateful smile falling apart to reveal his rage. “...Sound like a mistake?”

 

Nouv has dealt with enough angry and traumatized agents to know not to answer the question. He keeps his gaze and waits.

 

Vanderwood spins on his heel and returns to his seat, staring at the wall again.

 

It’s silent for the next few minutes, and Nouv returns to trying to find an alternative to the outhouse on the map.

 

“You have a mole.”

 

“There’s no mole,” Nouv sighs, erasing another mark. Damn. The outhouse looks to be a viable option so far.

 

“I’ll find the mole myself then. Prepare for a hacker replacement.”

 

The threat barely registers for Nouv. After his remarks, which have surely been heard beyond the doors they’re locked in, there’s no way Vanderwood won’t be reassigned to a completely different section of the Agency. He has no business being directly on the field right now, this will be his last mission for now.

 

The only thing he was right about was they _did_ need fresh blood in the hacking department. But that’ll be a complicated, future mission in itself. The Agency would probably need an agent experienced with both hacking and fieldwork to find someone new, but where were they going to find someone that valuable who wasn’t already assigned?

 

...Oh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this day is kind of 'canon' to my upcoming Vanderwood Prequel story. If you like the concept, look forward to it! :)


	5. Day 4: Captivating. Fascinating. Navigating.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderweek Day 4: **Fashion** || ~~Loyalties~~
> 
> Vanderwood and new agent Seven are sent back to school.
> 
>  
> 
> _Is it a poem? Is it a drabble? I'm not sure! Both?_

_ Captivating. _

 

Velvet, black as his gloves, cold as his stare, his cape brushes Seven’s sides as he ruffles through his hair. “We have a task to begin, no time to hesitate. Gather your things, I don’t want to be late.”

 

He feels so much bigger, but maybe Seven is just small; he grabs his bag and follows the man whose shadows are tall. His keeper, his guardian, a threat, a relief, Seven is terrified of the man who keeps him in one piece. Today marks his second year, he’s not quite free, but Vanderwood will now take classes separate from he. 

 

_ Fascinating. _

 

Vanderwood feels proud at the progress Seven has made, but wants him to relax lest he study to his grave. Acquaintances recognize his intellect, which suits Vanderwood just fine, but he reminds Seven they’re to leave them behind. He’s stern but honest, he just wants him to do well, for any misstep could send them both into Hell.

 

He steps inside a new classroom, it’s strange his ‘name’ is mentioned, the teacher calls for his opinions, he doesn’t like the attention. They go over threads and needles, spins and spindles, he does his stitches properly, his curiosity doesn’t dwindle. He goes home to Seven, who he’s happy is on-time, Seven shows him calculus, Vanderwood shows his designs.

 

_ Navigating. _

 

Nothing much changes, though now Vanderwood wears clothing he enjoys. Nothing much changes, though now Seven makes his own mechanical toys.

 

“Vanderwood,” he says with hope, feeling like a team. “Would you help me finish this?” He points to the yellow squares on his screen. Vanderwood obliges, eyes wander the fabric. “Change those to circles, or I would just scrap it.”

 

He wears the stupid jacket every day, it doesn’t affect his work, so Vanderwood has no say, and Seven just smirks. Finals are coming, they’re both up late, for once they’re both doing something they don’t hate. Seven’s a genius, a prodigy, but the compliments fall flat, compared to the congratulatory touch from Vanderwood on his back.

 

He manages a smile, but Vanderwood’s lips don’t turn, because Vanderwood knows there’s only one more year for them to learn. A mission is a mission, they’ll start to be assigned, Seven must grow up fast if they’re to survive.


	6. Day 5: Sentiments are Okay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderweek Day 5: ~~Perspectives~~ || **Childhood**
> 
> Vanderwood and you are planning a surprise party, but he’s always been the most surprising thing around.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Seven, AE Route References  
> Relationship: Seven/MC

“You know, I think Saeyoung will realize it was your idea,” you hummed, before handing Vanderwood another strip of tacked paper. He stood on the ladder, accepting the red decoration and gently sticking it near the birthday banner. Vanderwood strained, eyes uncomfortably close to the wall even as the ladder beneath him wobbled from his leaning in. You tried not to stare when you noticed his muscles stretching, a clear view of his toned and scarred arms protruding from his sleeveless, purple muscle tee. Since when had he become at-ease enough around you, around anyone, to show any of his body? Saeyoung was surprisingly tight-lipped about the ex-agent, but you could still imagine.

 

“I think you care far more than I do,” he grumbled, inspecting the multi-colored walls for evenness. “I still think you care a lot,” you laughed, finding his careful consideration endearing. No one was going to blink if the decorations weren’t perfectly straight, but he was bordering on obsession with setting up the surprise party.

 

“Aren’t you busy?” He huffed, looking down at you and your now decoration-less hands.

 

You grinned and pointed at the table across the room that sat still-boxed food and empty, large bowls. “I forgot what kind of punch you said to make.”

 

Vanderwood frowned, climbing—moreso jumping—down the ladder and jogging over to the table. You stifled another bout of laughter when you saw the deflated balloon sticking to the back of his shirt.

 

“It’s not really punch, it’s a stupid recreation of that Seven Star thing. Just cola, sugar, and cherry juice should do it. If there’s no cherry, strawberry.”

 

You hadn’t forgotten, of course, but you didn’t feel guilty about making excuses for him to guide you with that serious face of his. It was hard to get Vanderwood to spend this much time with you, he tended to decline most event invitations on account of...well, not wanting to do events.

 

“Mhmm, got it!” You grinned. He raised an eyebrow at you then returned to where the ladder was, picking it up with one arm while the other reached for the balloon he must’ve started feeling on his back. He walked the ladder to the corner of the room and began stripping off the shirt. You almost choked and looked away, eyes traveling around the rest of the room. You needed a distraction from all of _that_. Saeyoung and Yoosung relentlessly teased you just for complimenting Vanderwood’s hair, if you were ever caught staring at his pecs you’d never live it down. If you hadn’t already died of embarrassment from Vanderwood catching you, anyway.

 

You settled on a box that still needed to be unpacked and squatted next to it. You hummed as you opened up the top, then coughed. The cloud of dust was unexpected and it certainly let you know nothing inside was new. So what was it doing here at the small venue? Vanderwood must’ve brought it here for a reason. You fanned the air and squinted inside. What the…

 

You carefully took out the thick binder on top of the pile. With a glance over your shoulder to see that Vanderwood was rearranging—again, seriously?—the ‘concessions’ table, you opened it up. More specs of dust fell out but you ignored it. There were papers with an unfamiliar name sketched on top of all of them. Research papers, homework, tests, all with perfect marks. None of it made sense to you and you placed it to your side, reaching instead for a chunk of metal stuck between some fabric. Pulling it out, your eyes widened.

 

You didn’t know why you knew, but without a doubt it was your fiancé’s creation. It was in a very rough shape of an ice cream bar, maybe two with small holes to indicate speakers at its top. But there was a button on its side. You clicked it—then again, harder—until it popped open to reveal a disc reader. There was nothing inside, so you closed it back and flipped it around to inspect. It had that name again from the binder etched on its bottom.

 

Was this all Saeyoung’s old stuff? You placed down the CD player and rummaged through the objects in the box. The fabric was multi-colored, some even animal print that seemed to be more Vanderwood’s style than your goofball’s. Was this a jacket? You tugged at it.

 

“What do you think you’re doing?”

 

The jacket fell from your grasp with a yelp and you toppled forward, nearly into the box.

 

“Vanderwood!”

 

You brushed yourself off as you stood, turning to face the former agent who had an unexpected glare on his face (and his shirt back on).

 

“Sorry, I thought…”

 

“That you’d go through his things without asking? Remind me to never get married.”

 

He softened to a small smile, which only confused you. With a sigh, Vanderwood bent down to gently return all you had pulled out back into the box.

 

“This is my gift. I told him I threw out his university stuff years ago, but that was a lie. Now that he has his brother back and we’re out the Agency, I figure sentiments are okay.”

 

You stared at him. Saeyoung’s old university stuff? Why that had to be years ago, why would…

 

“Why keep it?”

 

Vanderwood looked back to hold your gaze, thinking for a moment before speaking. “He graduated early, I thought maybe they’d send us back down the road for extra education since they had so much faith in Seven. But…”

 

He trailed off, mumbling something under his breath and glancing behind him at the table.

 

Vanderwood waved you to join him over the box and you quickly followed him down. “It was important to him, so I took his things away.”

 

Vanderwood seemed to harden with the admission, mulling over something as he gazed at the old belongings, a finger lingering over the fabric. “Over time I realized we weren’t returning to university, but I...well, I thought it could make for decent blackmail if the need ever arose.”

 

The finger left the fabric and traced over the ice cream-shaped disc reader. This was painful to hear, but you were appreciative all the same. “I thought maybe I could decipher what some of it meant to get a clue to his past, since he wasn’t really good at hiding those pieces of himself back then. But I guess I wanted something to remember him by. It was stupid. I hid it from myself, too. Very well. That’s why I only found it just now.”

 

He looked at you expectantly, but you were at a loss of what to say. “Um.”

 

Smooth.

 

“Well now you know. I’m not repeating that, so you can explain it to him yourself later.”

 

He began to stand up but you grabbed onto his hand. He flinched, but didn’t pull away.

 

“What?” He snapped.

 

“What about you? Have you ever had a birthday party before?”

 

Vanderwood gently slid his hand out from under yours and stood up fully with a roll of his eyes.

 

“Surely you know by now agents didn’t have childhoods?”

 

You followed him up, determined now about what you were implying with your line of questioning. “But you were a child once. I think everyone deserves at least one birthday party, don’t you think? Isn’t that why you’re doing this for Saeyoung?”

 

He made a ‘tch’ sound and headed towards the beginning of the guest table setup. But you weren’t done yet, and struggled to match his pace.

 

“When is your birthday?”

 

“Don’t have one.”

 

“Vandy~,” you pouted, earning you a swift glare.

 

“Tell me what you like and your birthday and I promise we’ll make sure you have the time of your life!”

 

“Don’t have one, don’t want one,” he barked again.

 

“You don’t have a birthday?” You scoffed.

 

“Isn’t that what I said?”

 

Your pace faltered. Oh. Heart clenching with the new information, you frowned. Vanderwood didn’t know what month and day he was born? That was...Who exactly was Vanderwood before The Agency?

 

“Vandy,” you sighed, tugging on the hem of his pants for his attention. You needed to both apologize and confirm your intentions about his definitely-happening-now birthday party.

 

He ignored you, a long enough distraction for you to trip over party favors you meant to pick up an hour ago. Vanderwood wasn’t expecting the sudden weight and crashed, brought down with you. He turned his head to give you a look of pure disappointment and you blushed. You had tried so hard not to embarrass yourself this morning, and well, here you were.

 

“Sorr…”

 

The sudden sound of a small raspberry caused your head to whip up and see none other than Yoosung at the venue entrance, holding a cake and a grin.

 

No. No, no.

 

“Yoosung,” you warned, pushing off Vanderwood in a hurry as you both rushed to regain your footing. The polite thing would be to help the man up after knocking him over, but the desperate thing to do would be to stop Yoosung from beginning another teasing brigade.

 

But the cake was placed down and Yoosung was already pulling out his phone.

 

“Yoosung!”

 

Mortification passed your features, but Vanderwood’s arm pulled on your own before you could run at the blonde.

 

“Clean this up or I’ll personally force a pose with you for Saeyoung,” he ordered, other hand pointing at the mess you made on the floor.

 

Well, that would be worse.

 

You scowled at him, but with his deadpan you knew he meant it. You bent down, defeated.

 

However, you were still indignant and hadn’t forgotten your mission.

 

“Vanderwood, you may not have had a childhood but we have the rest of forever to...”

 

You were interrupted by a giggling Yoosung and flashed him a grimace. He continued his grin as he hopped off to help with the preparations elsewhere. You turned back to Vanderwood, who had paused at the door. Your heart fluttered at the sight.

 

He was rolling his eyes. But he was smiling.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I ended up not really liking this piece but there's no real reason to not post it at this point haaaa
> 
>  
> 
> _rip_


	7. Day 6: To Be a Partner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderweek Day 6: ~~Habits~~ || **Partners**
> 
> “Oh,” 707 murmured. Vanderwood glanced up to see that the younger agent was still fixated on him. He rolled his eyes. “What?”
> 
> “Have you done this before, or am I your first partner?”

“Partner training?”

 

Vanderwood skimmed through the folder’s documents, a gloved hand brazenly flipping a page every few seconds. He knew he’d have to sit down and thoroughly examine them all later, but he was both crunched for time and extremely annoyed.

 

“Vanderwood?”

 

Oh, right. Of course Agent 707 wouldn’t know, he’d never done partner training before. He was a special case, and had skipped certain introductions...which meant he had to, once again, explain everything. He dropped the folder and turned to face him. They were in a holding room, nothing but a steady red light of a camera in the top corner of the ceiling to break the illusion they were truly alone. It was dark inside with only a long, wooden table and chairs. 707 sat on the opposite end, eyes wandering around the rather empty room before landing on him—his partner. It was good he was taking his instruction to heart and assessing every location without being instructed. Soon it would become second-nature and he’d cease reminding him.

 

Vanderwood sighed and waved him over. Hurriedly, the younger agent jumped from his seat and hustled to his side.

 

“Partner training,” he sighed. “It’s something agents do every partner assignment.” He paused, shutting out the thoughts of his previous. It was better to move on. He had 707 now, nothing else mattered but keeping him alive. “We were supposed to do it in the beginning, but we got shipped off to university.”

 

Among other things.

 

“We’re going to be sent to a training facility, but we won’t know which one until we get there. The only exception is if it’s one of the ones where we have to go undercover as recruits on a military base. But I doubt it. Can you, uh, sit down?”

 

707 was hovering, and people standing above him made him nervous. 707 promptly sat down in the seat next to him and relaxed, chin in hands.

 

“Partner training is hard,” he continued. “It’s designed to be. Having a dedicated partner is a big deal, you’re supposed to trust each other with your life. So, we’ll be exposed to scenarios made to build trust. Some are casual, like talking with prompts to understand each other’s thought process more, and others are mission scenarios that might actually kill us. So,” he sighed, “Don’t fuck up.”

 

707 remained relaxed, curiosity shining in his bright, yellow eyes. It was painful to look at—it had been painful to look at for the two years they spent together at university. It wasn’t because he was still naive, it was because he knew that he—Agent Vanderwood—would be the one to ultimately crush that innocence, to crush _him_. “Do we need this if we already trust each other?” 707 asked.

 

Vanderwood returned his gaze to his papers. “It’s not optional.” He didn’t acknowledge the declaration of trust, a little flustered by the confidence in his words. Did 707 really trust him with his life without question? Did _he_? They had a couple scares but had never truly been in a life-or-death situation...yet. His thoughts began wandering to the past and he shook his head, as if to reject their whispers. No. He trusted 707, but not with his life. Not yet.

 

“Oh,” 707 murmured. Vanderwood glanced up to see that the younger agent was still fixated on him. He rolled his eyes. “What?”

 

“Have you done this before, or am I your first partner?”

 

He froze, but pretended to focus on the folder’s information.

 

“You don’t ask agents about their past unless it’s strictly relevant to the mission at hand.”

 

Of course, Vanderwood also didn’t want to talk about it. He never wanted to even _think_ about it.

 

“Not even if we’re _close_ partners?”

 

Vanderwood’s fist slammed on the papers as he regarded 707 with a new intensity. He was angry, something about the question setting him off. 707 needed to get this through his thick skull—now.

 

“We are _partners_. Not friends, not family, nothing but assigned _partners_. The moment you start to forget that, you’ll be reassigned if you haven’t already gotten your partner killed in some sort of stupid, sentime-”

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

707 was tense, leaning away from him with those same, bright, youthful eyes. Vanderwood huffed. He didn’t realize he was breathing heavily, worked up over…

 

He tore his eyes away, gulping back the regret. He couldn’t apologize for it. If he showed 707 kindness or hesitation now, in this vulnerable moment, he’d hold onto it forever. Actions speak louder than words. Vanderwood knew that best. When he opened his mouth again, it still managed to be the truth.

 

“That’s just the way it is.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The alternative title was "That's just the way it is" for MAXIMUM ZING.


	8. Day 7: Private Lessons and Phone Conversations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Vanderweek Day 7: **Lessons** || ~~Opposites~~
> 
> He squeezed his legs together, but it did nothing against the brick that was in his boxers. Why were you doing this? He checked the clock again, but time was still moving correctly. Vanderwood had his share of lucid dreams, but none of them sexual. This was real.

Normally such a loud noise next to him would jolt him awake, causing his arm that permanently rested under his pillow and around his gun to grip it painfully. But, the ringtone was familiar, a soothing folk singer’s voice that let him know it was you calling. He lazily reached for the phone, fumbling around the nightstand before pulling it into his line of sight.

 

5:00 a.m.

 

It wasn’t obscenely early, he usually woke up in about 30 minutes from now, but it was certainly early for you. Did something happen? He slid his finger across the green button and held the phone to his ear, clearing his throat best he could.

 

“Yes? MC?”

 

He could hear you breathing heavily on the other line, but you hesitated in answering. Vanderwood sat up in the bed, mind already racing to the worst-case scenarios. He would hate to go through the whole hostage situation again. Things were finally becoming normal around here—he was giving you private self defense lessons and the ‘small’ parties leading up to larger ones were hits.

 

“MC are you alright? Just stay on the line, I’ll message Saey-”

 

“No!”

 

He stretched an arm, still more than a little confused about what was going on.

 

“Um,” you said, “I’m OK, I just...wanted to hear you.”

 

Hear him? What the hell for? You were certainly a strange one.

 

“Well, I’m here…” He mumbled.

 

“Yeah, I...Hm, I was wondering what you thought of me.”

 

He rubbed a hand along his face, realizing there wasn’t time to simply go back to sleep. Why were you asking such strange questions this early? Didn’t you usually get up at 8:30 a.m.?

 

“Well, I think you’re doing a fine job as the party coordinator. According to Jumin the amount of guests has been steadily increasing and there are-”

 

“Vandy...No, that’s not what I meant…” You groaned on the line.

 

There you went again with that stupid, cute nickname. “What did you mean then?”

 

He laid his head back on the pillow, closing his eyes and listening to your still-heavily breathing voice.

 

“I meant about me, as a person...as a friend, or, you know…”

 

He didn’t know. He never really knew with you or the RFA, you were all just too normal for him and although he was adjusting well, he separated himself willingly and often just to avoid these confused pauses.

 

“What do you think about me?” He countered, hoping your example would make him understand your question better.

 

You let out a low laugh.

 

“Me? I think...you’re amazing.”

 

His eyes fluttered open again.

 

“Huh?”

 

“Yeah, I think you’re, hm, I think about you a lot, actually. I want...hm, I want a lot from you, I’m a bit selfish.”

 

No, this was not helping at all actually, but now he was very interested in what you were saying.

 

“A lot from me?”

 

“Yeah, you’re so cool and nice and...well, handsome, of course.”

 

“Handsome…” He mouthed the words aloud. You thought he was handsome? Most people called him pretty, so why were you different? But more than that, cool? Wow, he didn’t think he’d ever be more than awkward, it felt nice to hear.

 

He shook his head, he couldn’t get distracted now. “Thanks, but, um, what does this have to do with wanting a lot from me? A lot of what?”

 

“You,” you sighed out. The drawn out air seemed to tingle in his ear, and he shifted on the bed. His thoughts were beginning to wander—a brief image of your face laying next to him, breathing in his ear, sent a small wave of heat through him. He told himself to calm down. It must just be the loom of the morning, he didn’t want to make this phone call weird.

 

“M-me? Are you asking for more help at the party?”

 

You groaned again, and went silent, some shuffling to let him know you were moving now.

 

“MC?”

 

“God, Vanderwood. OK, I’ll be upfront. Do you like me? Not just as a friend, but I mean…” You hesitated, muttering something. “I mean, like, would you be interested in anything else? Romantic or...sexual?”

 

He sputtered, the phone falling on his face. He quickly grabbed it and put it back to his ear as he stood up, rubbing sleep from his eyes. What? The heat returned in several waves, straight through his heart and...other places. Shit. He hadn’t expected this, had hoped nothing like this would ever happen. Vanderwood was all about upfront honesty but not this kind.

 

“W-why are you asking me something like that?”

 

“It’s not obvious?”

 

No, no it wasn’t!

 

You groaned again. “Because maybe I am? Come on, everyone else says I’m so blatant, and that maybe you feel the same so...Ah, this is awkward. You don’t?”

 

Vanderwood’s heartbeat echoed in his ears, the thrumming confirming that he was indeed alive and this was not a hallucination—maybe. He couldn’t believe the several points you were making; you were not only interested in him, but the rest of the RFA knew and thought he felt the same? He never did anything out of the usual with you, how the hell did they come to that conclusion from his actions and how could he make sure he never did them again?

 

“I’m sorry…”

 

“No, wait,” Vanderwood sighed. You didn’t sound like you were lying, it was him who was in denial. You deserved his truth if you were willing to give it. “I’ve...considered you before. I really enjoy your company, I find you attractive.”

 

He felt his cheeks heating up like the rest of his body, but forced himself to continue.

 

“Very attractive, sometimes. I...am interested, I’m just not sure if it’s a good idea to be involved in any capacity with a colleague, lest I jeopard-”

 

“I’m touching myself right now.”

 

“Excuse me?”

 

You giggled on the line and he tried to relax the muscles in his jaw, which had clenched at some point.

 

“Oh you didn’t hear?” There was a tease in your breathy voice that made his morning wood ache and he knew without a doubt that he had truly fucked up.

 

“I said,” you continued, “that I am running my fingers over my breasts and nipples and touching myself.”

 

And just like that, his thoughts focused on that image—you in your bed, phone laying on your pillow with your earphones in, with nothing but panties and socks on, both hands cupping your breasts, speaking to him of all people.

 

He squeezed his legs together, but it did nothing against the brick that was in his boxers. Why were you doing this? He checked the clock again, but time was still moving correctly. Vanderwood had his share of lucid dreams, but none of them sexual. This was real.

 

“Are you messing with me?” He asked. He had to be sure. If this was a prank it was brutal.

 

“No,” you said pointedly. “Do you want me to stop?”

 

He squeezed his eyes shut, this was the moment of truth. There was no going back if he said no, but if he said yes maybe you’d never approach him in this way again. Maybe you were drunk? Being drunk were the only times you’d ever touched him in the past, intertwining your fingers with his or hugging him. But no, your words were still honest, and they weren’t slurred.

 

“No,” he gulped, still afraid this was an elaborate prank.

 

“Want to know what I’m doing now?”

 

“Yes…”

 

“My hands are going lower, I’m rubbing my thighs and right above m-my clit.”

 

Fuck. Your breaths were ragged, he imagined being the cause of it, spreading open your legs and leaving trails of kisses on your inner thighs.

 

“Want to know what I’m thinking...ah…”

 

Was that a moan? It had to be. He hurriedly snatched his earphones off the nightstand and struggled with shaky hands to stuff them into his ear.

 

“Vandy?”

 

“Y-yes, yes I want to know,” he confirmed, jamming the jack into his phone and increasing the volume.

 

Your voice got louder as you spoke, every breath becoming more and more clear. “I’m wondering what you’re wearing, if I get you hard...I’m thinking about being there with you, letting you touch me anywhere you want.”

 

He finally relaxed his legs, the hard-on was there to stay and there was no point in hurting himself.

 

“Anywhere?” He asked with a lick of his lips.

 

“Yeah, where do you want to touch me?”

 

His hand moved to steady his boner through his boxers. “Everywhere.” Well, it was honest. He wanted to touch every bit of your skin and although he thought he had properly suppressed those desires, they felt doubled as the urges pulsed through his member.

 

“Tell me what you want to do to me,” you hummed, voice low and luscious in his earlobe.

 

That was a difficult question, increasingly so as images of you in various positions danced under his eyelids.

 

“Right now I just want to make you feel good. I want to be the one rubbing my hand above your clit…” Oh, this was embarrassing out loud, more than he thought. He froze, face flushing.

 

“Nn, yes..” You moaned it out quietly. “Keep going...please…”

 

He took a deep breath and continued, trying to project confidence.

 

“I’ve always…” He’s always wanted to kiss you. But no, that was lame, he shouldn’t get sentimental.

 

“I want to kiss down your waist and...thighs. I want,” he exhaled, “to taste you.”

  
His face was burning, he wanted to hang up and never show his face again. This was a lot, he’d never voiced such...indecent things.

 

“What are you doing now?” You asked.

 

“Listening to you.”

 

“Nothing else?”

 

“It’s all I can do right now…” How could he think to do anything when you sounded like that?

 

“You want me to teach you?”

 

“T-teach me?”

 

You laughed again, light and feathery, innocent despite all you were saying. “Yeah, phone sex. Let me teach you.”

 

“O-ok..” If you took the lead, he could stop fumbling around his words and sounding dumbstruck—which he was, but still.

 

“It’s all about detail...rhythm, following along, imagining…for example, Vanderwood, what are you wearing?”

 

“Just my boxers,” he mumbled, hand tightening around his boner.

 

“Good. See, now I can imagine you in your boxers, kissing up my thighs.”

 

He bit his lip. Were you really imagining that?

 

“Wanna know what I’m wearing?”

 

“Yes.” It was immediate, the question on his mind since you called.

 

“Ok. Hold on.”

 

He waited patiently, before his screen lit up. Vanderwood ignored it, waiting for you to continue.

 

“Check your phone,” you giggled.

 

Hm?

 

He unlocked the screen and failed to stifle his gasp. It was you, sprawled out on your bed, wearing a...oh _God,_ what was _that_? Some sort of deep red lingerie bodysuit—it was lace and covered your torso, except your nipples were exposed and there was clearly an opening where your...oh goodness, he could see _lips_.

 

He slowly moved his hand along his boner, seeking friction. Was that really how you dressed in private? If you looked like that, he could fuck you without taking any clothes off. He could suck on your nipples without any fabric in his way, he could have you bent over doggystyle in his bed, thrusting into you and snapping the lace against your back.

 

“Do you like it?” You asked, although the answer was obvious.

 

“I love it,” he groaned, his hand moving just a little faster over his boxers.

 

“What are you doing _now_?”

 

“I’m…” Oh, did he actually want to admit this? No, not at all, but…

 

“I’m t-touching myself, a little…”

 

“Touching how? Describe it for me.”

 

“I’m rubbing my hand...over my boxers. I’m hard and it feels...good. I really like your picture.” So embarrassing. In honesty he wanted to ask you to send even more. He felt he could get off to this one alone, but…But if you were wearing that _right now_ , then, it was the next best thing to seeing you in the flesh.

 

“Take off your boxers,” you commanded, your breaths coming in faster now.

 

“W-what?”

 

“I’m teaching you. So take them off.”

 

“...Ok.” Reluctantly, he pulled back the covers further and looked down at the tent. With a sigh, his boner was released, springing forward as the fabric was removed. God, was he really this excited? There was even precum on the tip, threatening to leak down his shaft.

 

“They’re off,” he confirmed.

 

“Grip your d-dick and rub it all the way up and down.”

 

Were you getting nervous? You hesitated and Vanderwood couldn’t believe he found it so cute yet it made his cock twitch. He obeyed you, one hand folding around the member’s base and rubbing all the way around the tip, then back down. He closed his eyes and let out a small moan, this felt so much better without his boxers in the way. The fact you had told him to do it made him tingle, the small touches making him gasp. His hand spread the precum down, the little bit of lubricant encouraging him to go even faster. He could feel every nerve jumping with each play of his hand, licks of fire burning around him.

 

“I’m,” you gasped, “imagining doing it for you. Grabbing you, jerking you off. S-sucking on you…” You got quiet at the end, trailing off into barely audible grunts.

 

He wasn’t sure if it was your own pleasure or nervousness, but either way it made him feel a bit braver. “I’m imagining,” he gulped, his hand tightening around himself as he envisioned the words he was saying, “You on your knees, going in and out of your mouth…”

 

You moaned loudly and he followed the sweet sounds with own, thrusting into his hand and watching as more precum leaked out of his tip.

 

“F-fuck,” you hiccupped out.

 

“I want you so bad,” he groaned. His thoughts were getting hazy, the idea of you pleasing him pushing his doubts to the corners of his mind. All he was concerned with was how he could make all of these thoughts a reality, how your legs could be wrapped around his waist while he pinned you down and fucked you so hard you would crave only him until the end of time.

 

He imagined you arching your back into him, a blushing and screaming mess beneath him as he made rough love to you, making you completely undone, desperately grabbing onto his arms, your nails digging into his many scars. Right now, he wanted nothing more than you to clench around him, sweating and gasping out his name.

 

“S-Stand up, g-go to your bathroom mirror,” you breathed out, shaky but still like velvet, caressing his ears with something lustful yet soft.

 

“Yes,” he groaned, not stopping his hand’s movement, phone in his other as he practically ran to the bathroom to fulfill your request.

 

His phone lit up again and he unlocked it quickly, desperately even.

 

Vanderwood didn’t suppress the deep whine that emitted out of him.

 

You giggled in-between throaty moans. “Tell me what you’re seeing, what you’re thinking.”

 

He held the phone up, eyes focused on the picture even as he continued to pump himself. “I’m seeing you bent over, doggystyle, just how I like it. I see your cute a-ass in the air, you’re so fucking wet, I bet I could...Ugh...I’m imaging…”

 

His eyes darted to the mirror. It made sense, this was why you had told him to come here.

 

“I’m imagining bending you over my bathroom sink-”

  
“Yes, yes, fuck,” you sighed out.

 

“-Pulling your hair as I thrust into you-”

 

“Vandy…”

 

He grunted loud at the sound of that stupid, stupid, cute nickname—his name, _his name_ you were saying.

 

“-Watching your facial expressions in my mirror.”

 

“Vanderwood, I’m g-going to cum,” you cried out.

 

His head tilted back, mouth slightly ajar as he imagined how tight your walls might feel cumming around his dick, hand tightening almost painfully to mimic the thought.

 

“Please, please,” he pleaded, desperate to hear how beautiful your ecstasy sounds in his eardrums.

 

“I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I’m…” Your mantra was cut off by the loud moan, half-whine, half-sigh that buzzed through his earphones and straight down to his aching member.

 

It was too much, your release accompanied his own, unrestrained moan as he vigorously worked through his orgasm, too lost in bliss to care about the mess he was making on his bathroom floor. The warm seed dripped down his hand and he lazily gave a few more short thrusts, imagining pumping it all into your cunt.

 

He exhaled, breathing in deeply, listening to you do the same.

 

It was quiet for a few moments, and he briefly checked to make sure the phone call was still connected.

 

“Vandy…?” You asked meekly.

 

“Y-yes, I’m here,” he said, nodding.

 

“Did you…?”

 

“Yes.”

 

You sighed on the other line. “Um, Vandy?”

 

“Yes?”

 

As he came down from his high, the embarrassment was starting to return in the form of a burn across the back of his neck.

 

“Can I come over this weekend?”

 

His heartbeat sped up, thoughts racing on the implication. His first instinct was to say yes, _fuck yes_ , but he didn’t. Vanderwood quickly tried to remember everything you said before...this. It was difficult, but he managed. You liked him, right? At the very least sexually, which was _great,_ but…

 

“I’m not sure I can handle, um…”

 

“I don’t want to be just friends with benefits,” you said, a little timid on the line.

 

His face flushed, and he took a few seconds to take it in, but the confusion dissipated into a small smile.

 

“Then we could start with dinner when you come over.”

 

You giggled again, but this time his heart lifted to the sound. “That sounds great. And after?”

 

He sheepishly chuckled. “I might be interested in more lessons.”


End file.
